Saudade
by blainedreamer
Summary: Saudade n. - Portuguese origin with no direct English translation. Best described as a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves or a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist. In their mid-forties, Kurt and Blaine find themselves at a crossroads as they both struggle with saudade.
1. Chapter 1

Life in the Anderson-Hummel household was rarely a simple, communal affair. No one's schedules matched up and people were constantly in and out like ghosts. As Elizabeth, the youngest and only female, would look at it, there was an origin to this chaos:

One world-famous fashion designer + the lead singer of a band about as successful as the Beatles + a budding writer with one published novel, his Broadway-acting wife, and their adorable seven-month-old daughter + the world's laziest college student + Elizabeth + one apartment (4 bedrooms, 5 full bathrooms) in Manhattan's Upper East Side = her family

Alex and Jonathan were adopted; Alex when Elizabeth was three and Jonathan when she was seven. She was technically the oldest in years spent with Kurt and Blaine, a product of the adoption process slowing down and the two men accepting Brittany's surrogacy offer because nine months wasn't as long as two to four years. Brittany and Santana were living in Los Angeles because it was where the band was based at the time, and finding Alex in a San Diego orphanage was a lucky coincidence.

The first post-college problems surfaced then. Elizabeth only knew bits and pieces of the story – Blaine splitting his time between New York, California, and London, where the band was recording a lot, opened a rift between him and Kurt, who felt as though Blaine was never around. Alex had just moved in with Kurt and despite English being his second language, he was ten years old enough to figure out that Kurt blamed Blaine's long absences as the cause of his adoption taking forever and a day.

Things settled down for two years. Blaine convinced the band to move to New York so he could support Kurt branching off into his own design house. On Elizabeth's sixth birthday, she was told that her dads were in the middle of getting her and Alex a new sibling. A year and half later, amidst arguments of Kurt now being the absent one, Jonathan, a nine-year-old copy of Blaine, showed up in their house.

Arguments escalated into fights as Kurt's lines took off and required him to start travelling the globe, leaving them in a weird place – three kids with lives rooted in New York City couldn't start moving around the way Kurt and Blaine needed. Between memories of epic sleepovers with Brittany and Santana and being spoiled endlessly by her Aunt Rachel, Elizabeth can still see herself in Milan, Paris, Tokyo, the world's fashion cities, travelling with Kurt on her school breaks. The boys always opted to tour with Blaine.

And then something happened around Elizabeth starting middle school. Neither she nor her brothers could say what it was, but suddenly the fights stopped. Kurt wasn't annoyed with Blaine's obliviousness; Blaine didn't gripe daily over Kurt's need to control every aspect of their lives. They were happy and in love and if it hadn't been for that year-long respite, Elizabeth was sure she might never know the meaning of true love.

By the time she was starting high school, Kurt was living less and less in their apartment. He would disappear for seemingly weeks at a time, choosing to spend the night in the office or at Rachel's. If he came home and Blaine happened to be there, little things sparked fights. They didn't even try to keep their dirty laundry behind closed doors anymore. Alex was in college, though still living at home to get out of paying so much to Columbia University, and the other two in high school. They were supposedly old enough to handle their fathers blatantly not listening to each other.

They each sort of gave up in their own way. Alex stopped coming home like Kurt, crashing on friends' floors until he graduated and moved in with his girlfriend at the time, Beth Corcoran, a funny coincidence that Rachel and Kurt still laugh over. Jonathan's grades dropped as he opted to not pay attention in class and do his homework; every night was a party. And Elizabeth? Someone had very obviously inherited her father's love of dramatics if her rap sheet, community service hours log, and friendly disposition with the NYPD were any indication.

A story never begins at the beginning. That's boring. A good story – an entertaining story – starts at the end, when things are so at their most desperate, hanging on the edge is the only option. And Elizabeth would be the first to agree that the end started when she discovered filled-out divorce papers stuffed in the back of Blaine's desk drawer.

It was an accident, finding the papers. Her phone was warm with the end of Blaine's phone call in her back pocket as she rooted around the papers on the top of his desk, trying to find the plane tickets that would take their family to the busy streets of London, a city Elizabeth hadn't yet visited in her life as much as she wanted. Her thin, blonde hair fell in her face, and she hurriedly pushed it behind her ears.

Damn. She straightened up. They weren't on top of his desk like they were supposed to be.

She surveyed Blaine's study. With the instruments and scattered sheets of music, it was less of a study and more of a studio, but she attributed the name to his upbringing, when a man had his study and the woman dare not enter it unless she had food or drink in hand. Her thoughts when he told her about his childhood typically consisted of dear God and well praise the Lord I was born in this century.

She didn't say those things aloud because Kurt would get on her case about taking the Lord's name in vain if she did even though he was probably the least religious person she knew. It really wasn't worth poking the sleeping dragon just to express her thoughts despite the attention it would get her. Usually she would scrunch up her nose and say something about how gross the sexism sounded. It at least made Blaine give a knowing laugh.

"If I were plane tickets," she murmured, circling in place. "I would be hiding here." She sat in his desk chair and slid the top drawer open. In it sat a thick, folded document and a black ballpoint pen. Her hand hovered. What was the worst that could happen? If she got caught, the resulting lecture would be at least four minutes of attention she wouldn't have otherwise received.

It was definitely worth opening.

Almost instantly, she regretted the move. All she saw on the first page were words like court and divorce and her dad's damn signature at the bottom. The date was from March, three months ago. Her fingers were shaking when she dropped it on the desk and crossed the room that once belonged to Alex, calling out for her other brother.

"Well, he hasn't served Kurt, so that's a start," Jonathan said after looking the papers over, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

"I know, but what if he's, I dunno, waiting or something?" she asked, worry creasing her features.

"Waiting for what?"

"To serve him."

He laughed, the sound harsh in the back of his throat. "I don't think there's ever a good time to tell your husband you want a divorce."

Silence fell as brother and sister stared at the document.

"I don't want them to break up," she whispered after a few minutes. "I know they fight a lot, but they still love each other . . . right?"

He shrugged. "You would know better than me," he said.

Pursing her lips, she glanced at Jonathan. "You should get dressed. You know Kurt's gonna have a fit if he finds you in sleep clothes as we're supposed to be leaving."

"I'm a bad flier, kiddo. I need the comfort." He ruffled her hair and started to leave. She didn't even bother attempting to swat his hands off her head. "Chin up, Liz. If he really wanted it, those papers would be filed, not hiding in his desk."

The small words of comfort were lost on the girl. Her eyes were stuck on his name, reading it over and over again, hoping they would soon disappear: Blaine Anderson.

That was sort of the worst part, she mused in the taxi ride to the airport an hour later. His last name. It was all wrong and too short. The family name was supposed to be Anderson-Hummel. It was on her birth certificate. It was on Alex and Jonathan's adoption papers. It was on their taxes, bills, magazine interviews, any piece of print that wrote their last name.

She clung close to Jonathan that day. She could feel Blaine's inquiring looks on her back through security and customs and buying trashy magazines before reaching their gate. A long time ago, alliances formed – Elizabeth believed in Blaine's side of the story and Alex, Kurt's. Jonathan acted as mediator when opposing child and parent went at it, except when it was clear who was right, which was often.

If Blaine thought her silence was odd, let him, she decided. She was never a good actress anyway. She was good with the silent treatment, though, and you couldn't spill your secrets if you kept your mouth shut.

"Kurt?"

Her head snapped up from some article about Aunt Rachel's latest boyfriend. Blaine was sitting across from Kurt, who was frantically typing something out in his phone.

"Yes, Blaine?" He didn't even look up.

"Why were the tickets in the bedroom?" Blaine's gaze was focused on Kurt.

"Moved them. Did some cleaning last week. Why?"

"That means you went into my study."

Elizabeth hoped only Jonathan noticed her stiffening against him where their arms pressed together from sharing a too small armrest.

"It's a mess. Merely sorted things."

Elizabeth noticed that Alex and Beth suddenly slowed down in their approach, baby and food in their hands. Even a stranger could pick up on the tension brewing.

"That's my space. I've asked you in the past to not go in there and to respect that wish."

"Lizzie was in there today."

Elizabeth didn't bother correcting Kurt on the nickname she dropped several years ago.

"That's because I asked her to find the tickets for me so I could save some time when I got home. I still had to turn the house upside down to find them."

"Could've asked me where they were. And we live in an apartment, Blaine, not a house." His eyes flicked upward at his husband momentarily.

Blaine's fingers started spinning the ring on his left hand and he suddenly stood and left. Kurt didn't notice he was gone for a few minutes until he looked up and asked Alex where he went. Alex shrugged, his frown turning into a smile when he caught sight of little Siobhan reaching for him from Beth's arms.

When Kurt's phone buzzed with a text right before boarding started, she couldn't help but let her eyes slide over and read the text from Blaine: In the future, I would appreciate not being treated like a child.

She pretended not to notice Kurt's frown and haste to delete the text.

"Little brother!" Cooper Anderson called, rushing forward to hug Blaine tight around the shoulders, their respective families following.

"Coop," Blaine returned, an easy smile gracing his face. He nodded to his brother's family and murmured Sarabeth's name like his parents had taught him to do long ago. "How've you been?"

"Fantastic!" Cooper's enthusiasm was contagious; Blaine found his smile growing wider than before. "You are looking at the new face of Britain's most successful orange juice company."

Sarabeth rolled her eyes. "His ego is still bigger than the King's name," she deadpanned, her London accent coming out thicker than Blaine remembered. She stepped forward and hugged Blaine as well and then tapped her two kids on their shoulders, who sheepishly put their phones away.

"It's not that big," Cooper tried to argue.

"We've got enough bloody orange juice in our house to kill us." Sarabeth pulled her sweater around her body, crossing her arms to keep it in place.

As thought suddenly remembering his manners, Cooper's smile turned slightly frosty when he acknowledged Kurt and then softened again when he got to Blaine's kids. Blaine felt affection run through him as Elizabeth quickly pushed forward to hug her aunt and uncle tight. They didn't have much in the way of extended family – there was Finn on Kurt's side, with his two kids from the marriage with Rachel, but he never remarried after their divorce. Still, it was a bigger family than Blaine had growing up, which was his main concern when he first started a family with Kurt over fifteen years ago.

"Let's grab your stuff and get out of here, yeah?" Sarabeth said, cutting into the awkward moment when Elizabeth pulled back into her shell beside Jonathan. Blaine caught his younger son whispering something in Elizabeth's ear and squeezing her shoulders with one arm. He made a mental note to talk to her at some point.

Cooper and Sarabeth made dinner, knowing the travelers would want to crash soon. Alex and Beth didn't even stick around for the meal; they took two plates of food with them into their ground floor guest room so they could deal with a very cranky baby. They ate in silence.

Blaine wanted to automatically place the blame on Kurt. After all, he was the one being quiet and moody and stand-offish and did he really have to be glued to his phone all the time? The clothes would get sown. Emailing your assistant constantly is not going to help that.

Sleeping arrangements worked out to Elizabeth on an air mattress on Delilah's floor (she swallowed back her grimace at the amount of pink and horses in the twelve-year-old's room and Blaine contained his pride over Elizabeth withholding her judgment; no way would Kurt have taken a similar situation with as much grace as his daughter) and Jonathan on the pull-out sofa in the upstairs room Kurt and Blaine were given.

At one in the morning, his last straw was pulled. Kurt was on his side, facing away from Blaine, the glow from his cell phone screen telling Blaine everything he needed to know. He let himself envy Jonathan for a moment because he wished he could go back to college and that age where no matter what was bothering him, he could fall asleep anywhere, any time.

"Kurt?" he asked softly, not wanting to wake their son.

Nothing.

"Kurt?" This time he tried being a little louder.

Silence.

"Kurt."

The other man grunted. It was a start.

"Are you ever going to sleep?" he asked slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. He didn't know what set Kurt off these days.

"You don't need to speak as though I'm retarded, Blaine. Yes, I am, soon. I need to finish a few things up. It's only eight at night back home."

"Yeah, but it's one am here and I'm tired."

"Then go to sleep."

"You know I need total darkness."

"Then what I'm supposed to do?"

He debated over answering or not. They were headed in the direction of an argument already, so why not continue? Wasn't his therapist saying he needed to get his thoughts off his chest?

"Turn your phone off?" Blaine suggested, wincing when he heard the venom in his tone.

"And let everything fall apart? I don't think so."

"What could possibly be going on right now?" Blaine asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "The work day is over."

"Rachel's wearing one of my designs at the Tony's right now, which I'm missing because of this trip, and it has a very likely chance of tearing because it's delicate fabric," Kurt explained dully.

Blaine didn't even know where to start with that, so he picked his easiest argument. "We're on this trip because it's the only time we've got free time this calendar year to go somewhere as a family. If it makes you feel better, I'm upset about not going as well."

Slowly, Kurt locked his phone screen and sat up. "No, Blaine, it doesn't make me feel better. These are the first Tony's I'm missing since Rachel's inaugural nomination twenty years ago. You only started going a couple of years ago, when she started asking you to be her date so she could continue to throw herself at nameless guys in private."

"Since when have you become so bitchy?" Blaine snapped, not caring how loud he was anymore. Jonathan could sleep through this. "All I ever hear out of your mouth anymore is negativity."

Kurt's face hardened into rigid impassivity. "Like you haven't been that way before."

"Not all the damn time!"

"I regret to inform you that your opinion isn't substantiated. I talk about plenty of pleasant things all the time. You just don't listen."

Blaine snorted. "Right, because discussing floral pattern trends on the phone with Tina is pleasant."

Kurt's glare asked enough questions for him.

"I'm so sick of only ever hearing about fashion coming out of your mouth. It's like that's all you focus on when you're not occupied with Alex's baby."

"I'm not having this discussion right now," Kurt said, shutting down as far as he could go, throwing himself back on his side, away from Blaine. "You can take this up with me in the morning, when I can think straight."

Frustrated, Blaine pounded his fist against the mattress and flung himself down as well, back facing Kurt's. Sleep seemed unattainable.

The room's three occupants were unaware of tears not their own.

.


	2. Chapter 2

On the third day, Kurt nearly flew back home. Given that Blaine was in London, it only made sense that he do a little bit of work on his band's next album. It was only for a day, but even if they weren't speaking properly, this was still a family excursion and dammit, he probably didn't even notice that after that first night, Kurt never touches his phone during the day. It's tucked in his front pocket, turned off, and if his fingers occasionally brush it as though itching to draw it out and check his email, he doesn't. He's trying and he feels like Blaine isn't noticing.

So on this third day, Kurt very nearly called a cab to go back to Heathrow because really, Blaine couldn't go several days without working? Kurt felt as though he had legitimate reasons for that first night – Rachel was representing his label at a major awards show (which had gone smoothly so he could breathe easy). After that, he was off for the week. The people in his office knew that, knew not to bother him with inane details that he can deal with in a week.

"Give me one good reason why you have to go to the studio," Kurt said the morning of the third day, sitting on the bed's edge. He tried to keep the whine out of his voice, but his gut twisted uncomfortably at Blaine's heavy sigh.

"My producer wants me to check some tracks and rework a couple lines of lyrics that apparently aren't working," he explained as he shrugged on a pair of jeans and Kurt bristled at the silent _I'm talking to an idiot_.

"I thought we agreed to not work on this trip," Kurt countered.

Blaine paused in the middle of buttoning up his shirt and Kurt wondered if he even remembered their conversation several weeks back about leaving their work lives in America for the sake of their family.

Instead of replying, Blaine grabbed his phone off the dresser top and stuffed it in his pocket, not looking at Kurt. "I have to go."

"No you don't," Kurt said, anger rising up in his chest, his fingers dancing against the outside seams of his jeans. "This is _family_ time. We came here as a family to visit your brother and his _family_." Maybe if he said the word enough Blaine would realize that there needed to be a more clear separation in his life.

Blaine groaned, still looking out the window above the dresser. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped. "I really don't want to go, but I have to."

"And since when have you let your producer boss you around like this?"

"Since my husband seems to think I play a much different role in this family than what reality says I do," Blaine snapped, throwing a look at Kurt the other man couldn't identify and storming out of the room.

It would've hurt less if Blaine had physically stabbed him with a knife, he decided as he rubbed a hand over the center of his chest. Warmth left him, dropping to his gut like a lead ball. What _did_ he expect from Blaine? To be there for their kids when he couldn't come home, when he couldn't stand walking by Alex's old room, knowing that reminders of what took Blaine away from him sat in there? To be Blaine the Dad and Blaine the Husband and Blaine the Musician?

The blow fell harder: Was he trying to stretch Blaine too thin? Blaine was music and music was Blaine. Was he telling Blaine to not be himself at home?

No, that was ridiculous. Blaine was always just himself when they were together, alone. Even in the early days of their relationship, there was a quiet, protectively content Blaine that peeked out when it was just the two of them, together and alone. But did he ever really lose the music? Everything Blaine did seemed set to a beat, more obvious as time passed. Maybe he didn't lose the music, and that's where Kurt was overstepping and trying to change him.

He shook his head and warily stood up, not sure if the sick dread streaming through his veins would knock him back down. He was thinking crazy; he never tried to change Blaine. He promised him that and so much more in his vows. Looking down, his realized he hadn't polished his wedding ring in a while. The gray color was starting to dull and there was a scratch on the bottom he hadn't noticed before. Wasn't there some myth that wedding rings could depict the state of the relationship they symbolized?

People. He needed to be around people. Getting out of that room was imperative.

Downstairs, the house was eerily quiet. He heard Sarabeth talking softly in the living room and poking his head in, he saw Elizabeth listening with rapt attention, a book long forgotten on her lap. As she grew older, he saw so much of himself in Elizabeth, but the innocence and trusting view of the world and blonde hair was all Brittany. Both girls were dreamers. He hated that telling and reading aloud stories was never his forte; Blaine took the role of Bedtime Storyteller very early on and Kurt has always figured that's why she gravitated toward Blaine.

"Oh, hey, Kurt," Sarabeth said after she caught sight of him. "I thought you left with Blaine and the others."

Kurt shook his head and leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms across his chest. "Is that where everyone is?"

"Alex and Beth are off doing their own thing, but Dad insisted that Jonathan get to know our cousins," Elizabeth interjected. Kurt felt as though she was judging him and immediately wanted to shy away from it.

"And Coop wanted to see if us Brits care about the big Blaine Anderson," Sarabeth joked. "He's really just looking for a paparazzi chance. You know he wants fame like he's dehydrating in a desert."

"Oh." Even in a completely different city, his family was spread out all over the place.

Sarabeth was studying him curiously and suddenly, she stood from the couch and asked Kurt to help her in the kitchen.

"There's some kinda bloody joke in here, I swear," Sarabeth said, opening the fridge and pulling deli meats out.

Kurt snorted. His sister-in-law had a sense of humor he couldn't find in most other women he knew.

"Do you or Blaine need to borrow the sofa in Alex's room down here?" she asked with preamble, pulling bread and condiments toward her. It must've been an Anderson thing to not look at people when they were talking.

"What?"

She repeated the question and pulled her thick, white-blonde hair into a ponytail. "Coop and I hear you two every night. The walls are pretty thick around here, too, so I imagine your rows are pretty spectacular."

"We—"

"Kurt," she said softly, and he was trying to remember if he'd ever seen her without that look, like her face was smirking but her lips were straight and pressed together.

"What?" he asked again, starting to feel dumb.

"My parents divorced when I was seven. I know what marital problems sound like."

"We're not—I mean—he just—"

"I know," she said, her voice still quiet.

Could he trust her? Would she tell Coop about this if he talked to her? And if she did talk to Coop, what were the chances of him talking to Blaine about this?

"Between us?" Kurt asked, knowing he needed to get this off his chest and not quite sure if he'd found a way.

"Between us," she agreed.

"I don't know," Kurt said, his voice breaking. Tears stung his eyes and the earlier ache in his chest blossomed. "We never talk anymore. All we ever do is fight. I feel like he doesn't even notice or pay attention to me. He hasn't in a while. And the only time I ever have his full attention is when we're yelling at each other. It's just—" Several tears escaped and he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "I used to be his life. Or a big part of it. Now I just feel lucky if we spend our night under the same roof."

"Oh, Kurt. . . ."

He held up a hand, wiping at his face with the other. "No. No, thank you. I don't want your pity or sympathy or apologies or whatever else you might offer me. It's my marriage. I'm going to fix it."

She held her hands up. "Alright, I won't say anything then." She pointed beyond Kurt's shoulder. "I don't have control over your daughter, though."

He turned to find Elizabeth standing in the doorway, worry filling her features, and he found himself crumbling. There was no way the kids would've not known about the fights and the tears but he knew of the silent pact he and Blaine had to not let this affect them as much as it was apparently doing so. It wasn't their battle. Before she could run off and be upset alone, he crossed the kitchen and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair. A sob built in his throat as she embraced him as tight as her muscles aloud.

"Are you and Daddy gonna be okay?" she asked, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"I don't know, sweetheart," he admitted and held his only daughter closer. Kurt wanted to go home to get away from all the emotions swirling in him; he just wasn't sure where that was anymore.

When they pulled away a few minutes later, Sarabeth wasn't in the kitchen.

—

Kurt,

It's the first of July. I can't take this silence. I miss you.

You fell asleep on my shoulder about an hour into the flight. I don't know if you'd be upset if you woke up like that and I hate that I'm second guessing myself on that, but I asked the stewardess for a pillow and blanket to let you have your own space anyway.

I miss you. Come home. Please.

Yours forever,

Blaine

—

They were home for five minutes before Blaine blew up on Kurt for doing his dry cleaning, to which Kurt argued that he was trying to consolidate tasks and Elizabeth retreated to her room for a few minutes before giving up on waiting the storm out and slipping out to meet up with some friends.

—

"Please tell me this is important," Alex sighed, dark eyes flicking over his younger siblings standing outside his front door.

Elizabeth nodded furiously and pushed him out of the way.

"Sorry about this, man, but she gets in these moods and there's no stopping her," Jonathan muttered as Elizabeth cooed a greeting to Siobhan, who was being looked after by Blaine while Beth made dinner.

"Any idea what about?"

Jonathan bit his lip.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Jonathan gave Alex a look. "It's this crazy idea 'Lizabeth has to avoid Dad-Squared separating."

"I don't even know how to respond to that," Alex said.

"I tried telling her that sometimes people fall out of love and there's no fixing it," Jonathan said. "She wouldn't hear a word about it, just kept going on about how much food we'd need to buy."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "What on Earth is she planning?"

"Hey Dad?" Jonathan called from the front door.

"Yeah?" Blaine called back, still caught up in Siobhan.

"Alex and I are stepping out for a moment. I want to show him a funny sign Elizabeth found on the way here."

Elizabeth turned to look at her brothers, confusion in her brows. "I didn't—"

"The woman with the house made it," Jonathan said, cutting her off.

Recognition sparked in her eyes after a moment and she laughed and her brothers cringed at how transparent she was being. "Yeah, that was a good one. You should definitely show Alex."

Outside, Alex shot down a cigarette offer from Jonathan. "Beth doesn't even like it recreationally with the baby around now."

The younger shrugged. "Whatever. I only picked up the habit to annoy Dad-Squared."

"So what's going on?"

Jonathan punched Alex in the shoulder and jerked his head to the corner of the street.

"Aunt Sarabeth's mom had this house," Jonathan explained in between drags. "Up in Maine. It's on the coast somewhere in the South. Her parents used it as their getaway place when they were tired of England. Apparently they were really rich fuckers and had visas and shit."

Alex watched his brother carefully, not liking where this conversation was headed.

"When Aunt Sarabeth's dad died like fifteen years ago, her mom picked up and moved there full-time. She died about a year ago and Aunt Sarabeth has no idea what to do with it. I don't know how our sister found about this, but she wants to reenact that book she's reading, Nights in Rodanthe, or something like that."

"What happens in the book?" Alex warily asked.

Jonathan flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and shrugged a shoulder. "What I gathered from the Internet is that this couple gets stuck inside a bed-and-breakfast-type place on the North Carolinian coast and they fall in love."

"And Liz would want our dads to fall in love again with this house," Alex mused, finishing the story.

"Exactly."

"Aunt Sarabeth's cool with this?"

"Apparently our aunt is okay with us stranding our two fathers in a Maine beach house."

They watched cars pass, lost in their own thoughts.

"How the fuck would this even work?" Alex asked.

Jonathan gaped. "You're seriously thinking about this?"

"Why not? I mean, it's completely _loco_, but there's a chance it might work."

"You were agreeing with me last week about Elizabeth overreacting about Dad's hidden divorce papers and now you're agreeing with her that we should lock them up for a month and hope they don't kill each other?" Jonathan shook his head and stomped out the remains of his cigarette. "This family is fucking ridiculous. None of you can make up your minds!"

Alex waited for the manic look in Jonathan's eyes to dissipate before he said, "If you weren't talking to your girlfriend for a long time and someone indefinitely locked the two of you in a room, what would you do? Would you really stay silent until you were let go?"

"No. I'd talk."

"My point exactly," Alex said. "Now come on. I taught Beth how to make enchiladas two weeks ago and I wanna see if she remembers my birth family's secret ingredient."

—

At dinner, while feeding baby Siobhan, Elizabeth asked Blaine what five things he would take with him if he were on a desert island.

She made sure to ask the others, too, so it looked less suspicious and more inquisitive.

—

Elizabeth threw a party on July 4th once she found out both her dads would be out for the night at separate events.

Much to her chagrin, Jonathan dealt with the police about the excessive noise complaints from neighbors and Kurt and Blaine never found out about the party.

—

Kurt listed the family photo albums, a sketchbook and pencils, his phone, his old collection of Disney movies, and the red and navy blue afghan that rested on the rocking chair in the corner of his and Blaine's bed room.

"There's no cell reception," Alex countered.

It took several minutes for Kurt to replace his phone with his husband.

—

"This is ridiculous," Beth said.

She spoke from the backseat, curled up against Alex, the pair looking decidedly relaxed but slightly worried over leaving Siobhan with Quinn and Noah for the weekend while the four (Elizabeth and Jonathan were riding up front; everyone agreed this would be good driving practice for Elizabeth, who rarely got behind the wheel outside of the city) road-tripped up to Sarabeth's parents' Maine beach house to stock the house with food and memories for Kurt and Blaine.

Jonathan warmed up to the idea once Elizabeth came forward with a solid plan. Now Beth was sort of on board, but still wary if the set of her mouth as any indication.

Alex made a noise of agreement and comfortingly rubbed his thumb against her jean-clad hip.

"It'll work," Elizabeth said fiercely once she pulled out of the tight space against the sidewalk. She glanced at the GPS Jonathan was holding up for her. "I'm taking this up to the highway?"

"If that's what it says," he replied.

"How long is this trip anyway?" Alex asked.

"Six hours," Elizabeth said. "Get comfy."

—

Kurt,

It's the fifteenth of July.

I don't know where you are, and I'm wondering if you even care about that, but the kids left a note saying they were having sibling bonding time and road-tripped out to the Catskills and the house is really empty. I'm wondering if your presence would even fix that.

I miss you. Come home. Please.

Forever yours,

Blaine

—

"We're doing the right thing, right?" Elizabeth asked Jonathan in a hushed whisper, unpacking the food they bought at a grocery store a few miles away.

Jonathan looked around him.

"They're putting sheets on beds upstairs."

He frowned. "I don't know. The worst they can do is punish you, right? It's pretty extreme, just leaving them out here with no real way to contact anyone or get back to the mainland."

"There's a landline next to the fridge," Elizabeth pointed out.

Jonathan shook his head, dark curls falling into his eyes that he impatiently swept away. "I'm just trying to imagine every reaction they might have. Most of them aren't good. I mean, we're essentially abandoning our parents on an island off the coast of Maine."

"Desperate times call for—"

"If you finish that sentence, we're no longer siblings."

Elizabeth snorted and stuck her tongue out. "I think it'll be okay. They both need a vacation. When have you seen them not working?"

Jonathan didn't have an answer.


End file.
